


It's all Fun and Games Until Someone Falls in Love

by Malakia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: :D, Alternate Universe - Canon, BAMF John, Different Meeting, F/M, Fluff, M/M, warning: bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malakia/pseuds/Malakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the BBC meme :D </p><p>"Anderson and Sally while drunk sign Sherlock up for some gay dating event or website as a laugh, hoping to embarrass the detective. The next time they see Sherlock, he is on a date with his new boyfriend John who he met at the event/ through the site."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's all Fun and Games Until Someone Falls in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Edited and Brit picked by the lovely Bardlover1! THANK YOU! I WOULD SEND YOU SO MUCH CHOCOLATE IF I COULD!!!

“He’s a massive prick.”

Sally Donovan, the tough as nail sergeant at New Scotland Yard, finished off her glass of red wine and turned to look at her lover, Sylvia Anderson(1), who was nursing his own bottle of beer. The two of them were lounging in her bed in nothing but their underwear, both having the day off. She felt a slight twinge of regret, because Sylvia had told his wife that he was working but instead he was here, lying in her bed and getting drunk.  
  
“Who?” she asked, snuggling deeper under the covers, pressing herself to his side.  
  
“Sherlock, who else?” Sylvia huffed. “I hate him so much. What right does he have to barge in on a case and then comment on everybody’s lives? Don’t know how the bugger does it, bet he has someone in the Yard that tells him everything. No way anyone could tell so much about anybody just by looking at them.”  
  
Sally didn’t say anything but hummed noncommittally. She really didn’t want to talk about the Freak while the two of them were spending the day together. Talk about a mood killer.  
  
“I bet he doesn’t have any friends,” Sylvia continued to ramble, taking a gulp of his beer. “Doubt he even has a girlfriend....”  
  
“Maybe he swings for the other team,” Sally piped up.  
  
Sylvia shuddered. “Makes him even more of a freak then.”  
  
Sally laughed a little at that. “That is too true. Don’t know anyone that could stand him for even more than a minute.” She reached over and placed her glass on the nightstand. “Let’s stop talking about him, though.  Hand me the bottle of wine, will you?”  
  
“It’s not like I _want_ to talk about him,” Sylvia countered, doing as he was told. “But he just pisses me off so much.... I really want to get back at him. Make him just as uncomfortable as he makes everyone else around him.”  
  
“Just stick him in the middle of a group then,” Sally snorted. “Or better yet, set him up on a date. That’ll make him so uncomfortable that I doubt if he’ll know what to do with himself.”  
  
She was glad to leave it at that, pouring herself another glass of wine, when Sylvia sat up in bed.  
  
“That’s it...” he whispered, setting his bottle on the nightstand next to him. He pushed the covers back and went out of the room in nothing but his boxers.  
  
“Where are you doing?” Sally called, completely confused.  
  
She didn’t get an answer, but seconds later Sylvia was back with her laptop under his arm. He climbed back in bed, covering his legs, before opening the computer and bringing it to the homepage.  
  
Sally leaned over and watched as he brought up the internet and typed in the search engine. “Gay dating sites?” she said, eyes wide as she looked at her lover. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Getting our revenge,” he replied, clicking the first link. “You said ‘set him up on a date,’ so that is what I am doing. What better way to make the man feel uncomfortable than to do something that he will hate the most.”  
  
Sally leaned back and thought about what he said. A slow smile crept across her face. “How evil of you, Sylvia,” she laughed, leaning over to her own bed side table and grabbing her phone before returning to his side. She scrolled through her contacts as her lover filled out the basic information.  
  
“Shit, I don’t have his email.”  
  
“You don’t, but I _do,”_ she said, showing him. “Lestrade wanted me to have all the information about The Freak if I needed to pull him in on a case. Like I would!”  
  
Both of them laughed at that before focusing on the form. The first part was quick and easy; they were even able to put in a picture that Sally took with her phone when she was taking pictures of something at a crime scene and the consulting detective walked in. The most difficult part was going through his interests.  
  
“What the bloody hell does the man do during his free time?” Sylvia whined, taking another gulp of beer. “Besides drugs and smoking.”  
  
“I’ve seen his flat, has a lot a strange shit in there. He has a lot of glass beakers and crap, looks very scientific.”  
  
“We can put that as his occupation,” Sylvia replied, scrolling down and clicking on ‘Chemist.’ Both of them decided they knew very little about the man, so they decided to go through the interest lists and just pick and choose ones that sounded like him and some that didn’t.  
  
“Got to present him in the best light though,” Sally laughed. “He needs to get the date. With all we added about him, men will come flocking to him.”  
  
“All still disgusting to me,” Sylvia muttered, continuing on.  
  
They did the pick and choose thing for a few other categories before they finished. They both were giggling like a couple of schoolgirls by the end of it. “Oh God, I wish I could be there to see his face,” Sally laughed, leaning back against her headboard as Sylvia powered down her computer before slipping next to her.  
  
“It would be great,” Sylvia agreed. He leaned over and kissed her soundly on the mouth, pulling away slightly to say, “Let’s celebrate?”  
  
Sally smiled. “I thought you would never ask,” she whispered, pulling up the covers over them.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
If you asked anyone, they would tell you Sherlock Holmes was a very private man. If anyone asked him, he would say he was a sociopath and hated people. From a young age people had mocked him and bullied him for his brilliance, causing him to be a product of his environment. Being alone was what protected him and he never found a need for others. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, though, that in the silence of his flat he wished for a companion other than Mrs. Hudson or the skull. But he knew that was going to be a dream left unfulfilled.  
  
Or so he thought as he woke up in the morning, wrapped in just his bed sheet, and sat down at his desk/dining table in the living room. He opened his laptop, not bothering to eat or even get a drink; he could have since he wasn’t on a case, he just didn’t want too.  
  
Once the desktop was brought up, he opened his email expecting either someone begging for his help or nothing at all. What he did see caused him to frown whilst reading the first email. “LoverBoy15 sent you a message?” he said out loud. Out of curiosity, he clicked it open and was quickly horrified to see that it looked like some kind of dating site announcement.  
  
He practically flinched at what apparently was his username. “LookingForLove34,” he said in disdain. “Who came up with this?” He quickly scanned the email, but when nothing was really forthcoming he clicked on the “Go to Inbox” option.  
  
The page that pulled up had a white and red theme with the name of the website “Lifepartners.net” at the top and Sherlock guessed it looked professional, but he pushed those thoughts aside as he typed in his username and tried to figure out what his password was. It took him only a matter of minutes, his own first name being used as the key. “Clearly someone _wants_ me to find this,” he muttered.  
  
He blanched as he read the message that was sent to him. There were lots of sexual undertones to it, and he couldn’t delete it fast enough before the website took him back to ‘his’ inbox. There was all sorts of messages waiting for him if the subject line gave any indication, ranging from ‘I can make you feel so good’ to the simple ‘Hello.’  
  
In a sort of shell-shocked state Sherlock sat back, staring at the screen without really seeing it. His consciousness was drawn into his mind palace as he tried to think of someone who would do this to him. _‘There is Mycroft..,’_ he wondered, before completely dismissing the idea. Mycroft hated this sort of thing, believing in traditionalism rather than meeting people online. ‘ _Perhaps it was someone that came across my site and is playing a joke.... a cruel joke, but a joke nonetheless.’_ That dissatisfied him as well because the username, hinting that he had no one in his life, made it seemed more personal.  
  
That narrowed down his options considerably. _‘Not Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade needs me too much to pull something like this....’_ It then clicked, someone who knew information about him but just cruel enough to pull something like this.  
  
“Anderson and Donovan..,” he hissed under breath. He made a note to himself to be particularly vicious to them the next time he saw them at a crime scene.  
  
He took a moment to lock away his emotions, to hide the hurt and pain at such a cruel act towards him. Then again, he probably brought it upon himself, seeing how he always brought up their illicit relationship in front of others to keep them from getting too close to him. Apparently he had pushed too far. Fine by him, then. He would tear them down then delete all this later.  
  
He focused back on his computer and was about to click away from the inbox to delete his profile when something caught his eye. It was at the bottom of all the messages, and he cursed himself once he realized that in his shocked state he hadn’t seen it at first. He knew better than to let others under his skin like that but it happened from time to time. He read the subject line again: **“You too, huh?”**  
  
Sherlock didn’t understand that but found himself clicking on the message out of curiosity:  
  
 **“I can only assume that your friends wrangled you into joining this site as well? Cause no offense mate, your profile seems too good to be true.”**  
  
Sherlock couldn’t help but smile at that. He hadn’t even bothered to check what Anderson and Donovan had written about him but apparently some people weren’t idiotic enough to believe it. He clicked on the person’s username, “ArmyDoctor39,” to have a new tab pull up.  
  
The white and red theme continued. Near the left hand corner of the screen, instead of a box full of options there was a colored picture of an older man, crouching on one bent knee in what looked like a desert setting. His elbow rested on the other knee, supporting his head as he smiled at the camera, showing off perfect teeth. The circles around his eyes and lines on his face indicated a certain tiredness. He wore a pair of combat boots with the hems of his camouflage army fatigues tucked inside of them. He wasn’t wearing any form of armor, merely a beige t-shirt, and on the left bicep Sherlock could see the bottom of a tattoo hidden underneath the short sleeve. His skin was tan, _‘Not entirely unexpected_ , _’_ and his army cut blond hair was shining in the sun, his blue eyes were weary but worldly. _‘The number on his username most likely indicated his age, not just a random number, since people he knows probably set up his profile,’_ Sherlock deduced, _‘though he appears to be older, possibly due to the sun and heat but most likely from the stress of what he has seen as an army doctor. Trouble at home, possibly a relative, judging from the letter in his pocket that is wrinkled not from being carried around but from being crushed then smoothed out again. No lover or girlfriend, but he still has it and cares too much for others to join a site to get back at someone who hurt him. Has fired guns, but based on the wear on his fingers, favourite is the Sig Sauer P226R, otherwise known as the L106A1 by the British Army(2).’_ He tilted his head to the side, still studying the picture. _‘On the shorter scale for a man but clearly can handle himself; strong arms; muscled legs; not afraid to hurt others but unless necessary - morals. Has some form of rank....’_ He looked over to the name on the profile.  
  
“Captain John Watson,” Sherlock said leaning back in his chair. With one hand curled around his chin and one on the down arrow, he began reading the information offered. Watson seemed to be a very simple man who sounded like the type who’d accommodate to his partner; he enjoyed cooking, blogging and exploring. Sadly, or happily depending on who you asked, the man was currently in Afghanistan but lived in London. _‘What an ordinary, **boring** man...’ _Sherlock thought after he finished. He scrolled back to the top and stared at the picture of Captain Watson.  
  
He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t _attracted_ to the man. He was certainly handsome, and had the kind of look Sherlock liked in a man, because he was sexually attracted to men - not women - though he trained his body to ignore those urges. He frowned though, imagining the sort of thing that Anderson and Donovan had said about him to even catch this man’s attention; whatever Watson expected it certainly wasn’t _Sherlock._  
             
The younger man sighed and was about to click out of the page. _‘I’m not interested in people,’_ he reminded himself firmly. _‘No matter how handsome a person is.’_ When he placed his arrow on the ‘x’ of the tab when the indicator that the person was online turned green, Sherlock froze and held his breath but then shook himself, wondering why in the world he felt a sudden surge of anticipation. It wasn’t like the man was going to....  
  
A chat box suddenly popped up: **“ArmyDoctor39: You’re on!”** Sherlock once again froze as the box went off again. **“Sorry, just wanted to catch you before you decided to leave. Did you get my message? I am dying to know if you really enjoy collecting tea sets and knitting.”**  
  
Sherlock wasn’t sure what kind of noise came out of his throat as he typed his response without thinking. **“LookingForLove34: Of course not! Couldn’t imagine anything more boring!”**  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: He speaks!”**  
  
Sherlock huffed. **“LookingForLove34: Yes, congratulations to you.”**  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: haha sorry for picking on you, mate. Couldn’t resist.”**  
  
 **“LookingForLove34: I’m sure.”** Sherlock wasn’t exactly sure what to say next, now regretting even getting riled by a man he didn’t even know. _‘Stupid!’_ he shouted at himself, just about to exit out of the internet altogether when the box chimed again.  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: So I know your friends set up your page, but if you don’t mind I would really like to get to know the real you.”**  
  
Sherlock just stared at what Captain Watson had sent him, eyes wide. _‘Is this what normal people do?’_ he asked himself as he scratched the surface of his childhood memories, of people treating him horribly because he was smarter than all of them. He pursed his lips. No ~~-~~ one wanted to get to know him then, why would they now? Then the window went off again.  
  
 **“Hello?”**  
  
 **“LookingForLove34: I don’t have friends,”** he typed. **“This was set up by people who dislike me in order to embarrass me because they thought it would be funny. Sorry to disappoint you, but whatever it is you are feeling at the moment- which I do not care about- I am leaving now and deleting this profile.”** Satisfied with that, he was about to click out of everything when the box went off again rapidly.  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: Wait!**  
  
 **“Wait!!**  
  
 **“WAIT!!!**  
  
 **“This was set up by people who wanted to embarrass you?”**  
  
Sherlock hesitated for a moment before responding curtly, **“LookingForLove34: Yes.”**  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: And you don’t have any friends? None? Surely you are lying. People have at least ONE friend.”**  
  
 **“LookingForLove34: I don’t and I never will.”** What Captain Watson had to say next surprised Sherlock, to say the least, and caused him to laugh bitterly.  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: Liar.**  
  
 **“That has to be the biggest lie I have ever heard.”**  
  
 **“LookingForLove34: Dear doctor, I don’t know what world you live but in mine I am a sociopath who has no need for anyone. And why are you so worried about me? Shouldn’t you be more worried about your relative that isn’t doing well in London? Or better yet, worry about those nightmares you get about the war and the patients you let die?”**  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: How**  
  
 **“How did you know all that?**  
  
 **“You couldn’t have possibly known any of that!**  
  
 **“We just met!”**  
  
 **“LookingForLove34: If you call this meeting then I’d hate to see how you interact with real people. And I didn’t know, I saw your picture and deduced it all.**  
  
 **“The way you carry yourself indicates that you have seen many gruesome injuries, probably had some patients die on you because you had to decide between two people and who had the better chance to live. And don’t get me started on the battles that you had to be involved in, possibly seeing your own good men die – friends, even. Ergo, it can be assumed by the dark shadows around your eyes that you do not sleep much because you suffer from nightmares.**  
  
 **“As for your relative, I saw that there was a letter in your pocket in your profile picture. There is enough to see that it is wrinkled, not by carrying it around often but by being crushed in anger.**  
  
 **“It isn’t a girlfriend, people just throw letters like that away even if they admitted in the letter that they cheated.**  
  
 **“You still have yours - therefore, it is family. ”** Sherlock was expecting a cutting remark about him being a liar and readied himself for the backlash.  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: My God,**  
  
 **“That was amazing!!**  
  
 **“You’re website said you could do that, but I didn’t believe it!”**  
  
It felt like the air had been kicked out of Sherlock as he read the reply. He sat there and stared at it with wide eyes again as it continued:  
  
 **“I looked up your name last night, saw your website ‘The Science of Deduction.’**  
  
 **“Half of what you wrote I didn’t believe because really? Who can identify people by looking at their tie or pinky!**  
  
 **“Absolutely fantastic!”**  
  
 **“LookingForLove34: Really?”** Sherlock typed back with a shaky hand.  
  
 **“ArmyDoctor39: Oh yes! But that leads me to a new question: What is a consulting detective?”**  
  
Sherlock laughed out loud, placing his left elbow on the table and hiding his face in his hand. He had just talked to this army doctor in his most cutting manner but instead of running away or telling him to “Piss off,” it amazed the man. _‘What kind of man are you Captain John Watson?’_ Sherlock thought as his chat box pinged again, asking if he was still there. Sherlock felt a small smile - a smile! - when was the last time that had happened? - cross his face. Quickly, he reassured John that he was still there and began explaining his job to this amazing man.   
  
____________________________________________________________________________  
  
 _*A year later*_  
  
Sally Donovan walked hurriedly through the rain to meet Sylvia at their usual cafe. If someone had told her that she would still be having an affair with a married man after a year she would have laughed in their face. What did that say about her now?  
             
Quickly turning the corner, she saw the man standing under the awning of the cafe, looking absolutely miserable. “Hello,” she called, walking right up to him.  
  
“Jesus, where have you been?” Sylvia asked, looking completely sour.  
  
“Sorry, the new cases have hit the Yard hard,” Sally said, opening the door.  
  
“You mean the ones with the people taking the pills?” the man asked, following her.  
  
“Yes, the bloody conference was awful,” she replied, shaking her coat. The cafe was a little busier than usual but both of them kind of liked that. No one they knew came here but there was enough of a crowd that people wouldn’t pay attention to the two of them. “Didn’t help with Sherlock texting during the middle of it.”  
  
“I am still trying to figure out how he was able to get the reporter’s numbers,” Sylvia said as they stood in line to order.  
  
“Who knows,” Sally said, looking around the cafe. “He could have blackmailed - oh you have got to be joking!”  
  
“What?” Sylvia asked, looking down at Sally. The detective sergeant pointed into the back of the cafe and he looked, stopping short at what he saw. ~~~~

  
There, in the back booths, dressed in an impeccable suit, was Sherlock Holmes texting away on his phone. He was sitting by himself, with a drink and a book sitting on the table in front of him. He seemed to be lost in his own little world, not realizing the two people that probably hated him the most stood and stared at him.  
  
“What the hell is he doing here?” Sylvia hissed. Sally couldn’t speak, a sudden emotion of annoyance and fear mixed inside of her. It wasn’t like they were used to _not_ seeing him, it was just seeing him _here_ that threw the two of them off. After their drunken night almost a year ago both of them had expected some kind of retribution, but nothing happened. Nor after the first time they met the consulting detective again, or even the second. Both of them wondered if their plan had failed or something, but pushed it to the back of their minds as life took over. Their jobs kept them busy and Sherlock was still his prick self, though Sally would admit he was a bit nicer. There was even a case where Sherlock had refused to work with the Yard for a couple of months last year, saying that there was something more important for him to do.  
  
“I don’t know. Don’t care. I think we should leave-”  
  
“Excuse me,” a polite male voice said behind them. The duo turned to see a short, good looking, blond haired, blue eyed gentleman in a plaid blue and white button up and jeans, standing there holding two plates with a bowl of soup and a panini on them. He had a friendly smile on his face, but there was a certain hardness in his eyes that made the two of them want to step out of this man’s way, which they both quickly did.  
  
The man passed without another word and Sylvia turned to say they should leave, but the look on Sally’s face stopped him and he looked at where she was staring, his own mouth dropping. The man that had just passed them had completely ignored the other people and was now setting one plate down in front of _Sherlock Holmes._ “Have we entered the Twilight Zone?” Sally asked, watching as the man said something to Sherlock. The consulting detective only shrugged, saying something in return but not looking up from his phone.  
  
The man with Sherlock sighed before setting down the other plate and Sally and Sylvia watched as he scooted into the other side of the booth. The duo was expecting the man to sit on one side, across from Sherlock, but they were further shocked as he moved around until his left side was plastered to the other man’s right.  
  
Neither of them were sure of what to make of the scene when the man reached out and took the phone out of Sherlock’s hand, holding it out of reach when the consulting detective made a grab for it. Sherlock looked like a petulant child that just had his favourite toy taken away as the man talked to him and pointed at their food.  
  
The consulting detective continued to pout but the other man didn’t relent and in fact sent him a hard glare. Sherlock sighed, said something and reached out, swiping the man’s sandwich. The man made a shocked face and Sally and Sylvia were able to hear the shout of “Sherlock!” when the consulting detective said something, covering his mouth while he ate. The man then smiled a little exasperated smile before grabbing the other’s sandwich. He said something as he took a bite and the two watching witnessed something that they never thought they would see, ever, as Sherlock threw his head back in laughter, a real honest-to-God laugh, that caused a couple of people near them to look over.  
  
He said something when he calmed down and lifted his hand. Sally and Sylvia were sure he was going for his phone, but were once again surprised when he rested it on the other man’s hand. They both looked like a happy _couple_ on a _date_ which freaked the two Yarders out to no end.  
  
“Alright, this is getting too weird,” Sylvia said. “Let’s get out of here.” Sally couldn’t have agreed more and the two of them left hurriedly.  
  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
Karma, Sally decided, was a bitch. There was a fourth homicide/murder in a run-down area of London, with no evidence as to whether the woman had really killed herself or if it was foul play. The only difference was that this victim had left a note, and because of that, Lestrade decided to bring in Sherlock.  
  
Sally pinched the bridge of her nose, memories of seeing Sherlock earlier today still in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure if she could handle seeing him so soon, but unfortunately she had no choice. So while Lestrade and Anderson were inspecting the body again, she sat out in the cold, wet night, waiting for the consulting detective to arrive, wondering if he was going to bring the man that he was with today.  
  
“Ah, Sergeant Donovan, lovely to see you again,” said the condescending voice of one Sherlock Holmes from the other side of the police tape.  
  
“Evening to you too, Freak,” she bit back, coming to stand next to the tape.  
  
Without preamble Sherlock lifted it and went under, but instead of letting it drop he continued to hold it up. Sally gaped at seeing for the first time the man that had been with Sherlock earlier today, wearing a worn leather jacket over his shirt. "Wait a minute!" she demanded, stepping in to stop the man from crossing. "Who is this?"  
  
"This is my boyfriend,” Sherlock said bluntly, looking at her in a uninterested manner. Something in his eyes, though, had Sally a little on edge as the consulting detective turned to the other man. “Doctor John Watson, this is Sergeant Donovan. You should thank her and Anderson, for if it hadn’t been for them we wouldn’t even have met.”  
  
Before either of them could respond Lestrade came out of the building and demanded why Sherlock wasn’t going inside. “Sergeant Donovan here won’t allow me too,” Sherlock responded.  
  
“Wait a minute,” Sally said again, defending herself when Lestrade glared at her. “No, I’m not allowing _him_ in here. He is a civilian.”  
  
“He is with me,” Sherlock said, lifting the tape higher, allowing the man to pass under. “I need his opinion.” With that the two of them moved towards the building, leaving Sally to follow behind, dumbfounded.  
  
What happened next occurred so rapidly that Sally had barely any time to recover. Sherlock was biting, but subtle, in his remarks about her and Sylvia’s relationship before disappearing inside with the doctor following him. Neither Sylvia or Sally could look at each other, so while he went back inside she stayed outside to gather her wits again.  
  
She couldn’t believe it, really she couldn’t. It seemed like her and Sylvia’s plan to get back at Sherlock completely backfired; could he really have found someone? “This is messed up,” she whispered, cursing fate.  
  
Just when she was able to pull herself together Sherlock ran outside, completely ignoring everyone, into some dark alley. Nobody paid him any mind, but Sally watched as the man that came with Sherlock ran out and looked around. She felt sorry for him when he sighed deeply, shoving his hands in his jacket.  
  
“He’s not here, you know,” she called, catching his attention. “He does that. Runs off without telling anyone.”  
  
“Yes, I know,” the man said, showing her a polite smile. “Happened to me a couple of times before. Now do you know where the main street is?”  
  
“Over there,” she replied, pointing down the way, casually approaching him out of curiosity. “John Watson, right? The Freak doesn’t do relationships, so who are you? Really?”  
  
John’s smile quickly turned into a frown at Sally’s name for Sherlock, and he looked at her with a hint of malice in his eyes. “Apparently he does,” he said bitingly. “Now excuse me-”  
  
“Did he tell you about his past drug use?” Sally suddenly demanded. She knew Sherlock wouldn’t mention things like that - wanting to manipulate people like the sick sociopath he was. “Did he tell you that he is a sociopath? What he does for a living?... He gets off on this you know; the body, the more brutal and bizarre the case the better. It’s how he gets his kicks.”  
  
By the time she had finished her little rant John’s face went was completely impassive, though by the harsh glint in his eyes Sally thought she might have pushed the man too far. “I don’t see how that is any of your business,” he started. “But yes, Sherlock admitted his drug use to me. I have also been living with Sherlock these past two months, so I even know about his smoking habit and his terrible sleeping and eating patterns. I have helped him on a few cases that didn’t involve the Yard as well, so I am used to some of his quirks even if they annoy me greatly. He has talked to me extensively about his cases, about his work as a consulting detective. I know it’s dangerous and some of them seem terrifying, but you’re wrong. He doesn’t get off on any of what you said. It’s the mystery that fascinates him.”  
  
John stopped, closing his eyes to take a deep breath as if trying to prevent himself from losing his temper, and in the dim light Sally thought she saw a little coloring on his face - out of anger or for admitting so much her, she didn’t know. “I don’t know what you have against Sherlock,” John continued, opening his eyes. “But when you’ve seen people kill others for no reason other than because they were pissed off at them, or they don’t follow your beliefs, slaughtering innocent people, those are the real ‘freaks’ in the world. And I don’t care what you or Sherlock say, he isn’t a sociopath.  
  
“Sociopaths don’t talk to you after you say hi through a chat box. Or continue to chat to you, even when you don’t have any internet access, instead sending letters to where you are stationed. They don’t try to make you laugh when you are sad, or play you calming music before you go to bed to make you stop having nightmares. And they certainly wouldn’t put aside the Work when the person they are talking to is shot in the shoulder. Before I moved in with Sherlock, I was shot in the shoulder in Afghanistan and came back to London with a psychosomatic limp, and you know what Sherlock did? He won’t admit it, but I know he didn’t take any cases from the Yard or other people while I was in the hospital or going through rehabilitation for my shoulder. In fact, he also cured my limp!” He fell silent after his rant, his eyes daring her to say anything.  
  
“Bloody hell...,” Sally whispered after a moment of silence, wide eyed, as realization came over her. “You love him....”  
  
“I do,” John said proudly, a little smile coming to his face as he thought about the other man. “And don’t tell me sociopaths can’t fall in love cause Sherlock has told me that he loves me. Many times. And I know when someone is lying to me, and he never does when he says it.”  
  
Before Sally could respond there was a sudden yell of “John!” and both of them looked to see Sherlock come out of the shadows, an annoyed expression on his face. “Come along, John!”  
  
“Be right there, love!” John called back, a full-blown smile on his face, before looking at Sally. “If you’ll excuse me.” Sally had barely heard the goodbye because she saw Sherlock smile at the endearment. It wasn’t until John was walking away, but stopped and turned around to talk to her again, that her attention was back on him. “I should say ‘thank you’ to you though,” he added. “Because of you I got to meet this amazing man who I really love and who loves me back. I can’t though, because of how you treat him. You don’t know him like I do, so let me tell you, if you or anyone else says any more terrible things about Sherlock, I will show you what we did to people like you in the army.”  
  
Sally didn’t doubt he would, looking dead serious - face once again impassive and eyes hard. He waited until Sally slowly nodded before turning away and running towards Sherlock. Sally watched as the two of them ran off into the night, wondering what kind of person John Watson was to have Sherlock Holmes fall in love with him and what kind of new danger she and Sylvia had brought to the Yard.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: 1. "According to a tweet by Mark Gatiss, his first name is Sylvia. However, Mark was probably not being serious." 2. http://www.sherlockology.com/props/johns-pistol


End file.
